Ghost Rider: Rogue Hunt
by we-bears-babygirl
Summary: Don't shoot me if the story ain't good. I'm just trying to get the hang of it right now. Basically, it's an AU story where there is another Ghost Rider made to track down Johnny Blaze. Riley Fallon was just an adrenaline junkie that never thought she would be the spirit of vengence, as well as the spawn of Satan's consort. **I wrote this before the sequel.** This is just a test.


The name is Riley Fallon. By the way, that's pronounced as fall-in, not fal-in. I am a street racer, and a Ghost Rider. Now, I wasn't aware that the only reason I was made into a Ghost Rider is to hunt down another Ghost Rider, but hey, c'est la vie. I definitely didn't know I was gonna end up with...hey, let's just start the story, shall we?

Okay, at the age of fourteen, I was just living with my brother. Our folks died in a car accident when I was really little...cliched, isn't it? Anyways, my brother was a race car driver. Minor races, nothing major, but he was the best. I took after him, too. I learned to drive when I was eleven. I started racing when I was thirteen. We both lived in Talladega. The race car capital of the South. Well, when I was fourteen, my brother got in a huge car wreck and damaged his spine, leaving him in a wheelchair. I can remember being so depressed seeing him so vulnerable. Needless to say, I would have done anything to get him back on the pavement. I wish that I would never be so stupid again. A strange, scary man came up to me offering me a deal. My soul for his legs. I took it without hesitation. The next morning, I woke up and found him walking around. He then got a call to try-out for NASCAR. We celebrated for a week. You can guess what happened next...He lost control of his car and crashed into the wall. Dead on impact, the paramedics said. What they didn't know was that the strange man was standing nearby to admire his work. I ran out of the stadium, hopped into my brother's truck, and drove it as far as I could. It wasn't until I hit Atlanta that the gas ran out. I ditched his car and just kept walking in the same general direction. By the time I collapsed with exhaustion, it was nightfall and he was waiting for me.

"You killed my brother!" I said. He chuckled and kicked some dirt.

"Well, I had to. You would never leave if he was alive. Now, I paid up on my end. Now it's time to pay yours." He dug the end of his staff into my chest and what felt like molten metal ran through my chest into my head. "You belong to me now, Riley. When I need you, I will come and you will do as I say. Congratulations, you are now a Ghost Rider." He disappeared. Moments later, I heard sirens coming towards me...

So, here we are four years later. I bounced from foster home to foster home. Apparently, my street racing 'problem' was a bit of a nuisance. The problem was, I couldn't help getting a reputation in the world of buning rubber and adrenalin. If I didn't total my car, which somehow miraculously repairs itself by morning, I would win the race. My reputation precedes me. It's so bad that certain social service agencies refuse to help me. Anyway, I am now on my own and traveling the country. Tonight I'm hitting a street race in Talladega. Yes, I came back home, just for the sake of settling a score. I brought my baby for this one. A 2010 Camaro. Chrome rims, blue paint job with silver racing stripes, and an engine to make a NASCAR driver cry. Not to mention enough nitrus oxide to send this car to the moon. Trust me, I could kill the president and not get as much jail-time as I would get for driving this bad boy. I won it in a huge race. Two-hundred cars at the starting line, twelve cars cross the finish line, with me in the lead.

Anyway, Talladega is full of NASCAR wannabes so I knew that this would be a good turnout. We met up that morning to discuss the stakes. Two grand out of all of us and the winner takes all. I guess with six racers, that was good. Personally, I would have raised it to five grand myself, but I didn't want to ruffle their feathers just yet. We paid up and left to get ready for that night.

We met downtown where half the city was blocked off just for us. I showed up early, just to see if they planted any traps. For example, a trail of gas to ignite, retractable spikes in the road, you would be surprised about the kind of traps they could plant. By the time everyone got there, I spotted six traps. Spikes on the third left, gas on the second intersection, grappling hook and steel cable at the fifth alley, and so on...

"Alright, racers, the rules are simple: win! Winner takes all, losers leave with nothing. Now get in your cars." The bystanders cheered as we climbed into our vehicles and revved the engine. "Ready," we all revved our engines at once. The 'unofficial official' took out his pistol and aimed to the sky. "Go," he shot his pistol and suddenly the world was lost to the roar of engines and the vibrations of a high-speed race. As always, I thought of my brother and what I done. Because of my deal with the devil, he managed to race one last time. He would have wanted that, right? One last race before he died? I swerved into the third left, staying on the far side of the road. Sure enough, the car behind me tried to pass me on the inside, but the spikes shredded his tires. But anyway, what would my brother say if he were still here? 'I can't believe you dropped out of high school.'? 'You've become a better racer than me.'? The car in front of me lost its rear axel. I managed to fly past him before the steel cable came to me. What would he say to me when he found out I sold my soul to give him his legs? I could almost see him sitting beside me, shaking his head. 'You know that something as stupid as that wouldn't have ruined my life. Hell, I could race in a wheel-chair derby. You know I would be great at it.' I laughed, as if he was actually there, smiling at me. That's when I noticed I was heading straight for the gas at the second intersection...which was ignited! I slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel to the left, which in hindsight was the stupidest move I could have made. The wheels locked and the car flipped. It is an odd sensation when a car flips. Especially at the hundred and thirty miles per hour I was going...It flipped once, twice, three times. The problem wasn't that it flipped, but that it was in the middle of the intersection. Three cars were heading straight for me. They didn't even hesitate. I was being tossed around like a hacky sack. My car was absolutely totalled, and the only thing I could do was stay there until help came.

After what felt like forever, some of the 'unofficial officials' came to help. Two of the guys pried the door open and the third helped me out of the car. "Whoa," he said, "You didn't even get scratched. You one lucky kid! Hey, Hallipinsky won, but here's a grand just 'cuz you so sexy." He handed a wad of bills to me and I took it, no questions asked. A familiar chuckle ran through the air. The three men left when sirens started up, but I knew that no cops would come around here. Especially with _him_ here. The devil himself stood before me, smiling.

"Bravo, Riley. You have become a fine driver." I raised my middle finger in gratitude. He growled. "Now, you are ready. I need you to fulfill your end of the bargain." An engine revved behind me and my car was idling there, fully repaired. "I have a rogue Ghost Rider that needs to be taken care of, also a rogue demon. You, I believe, will be perfect for the job."

"Go to Hell." I climbed into my car and gripped the steering wheel. The moment I did, I couldn't take my hands off of it. It was like my hands were glued to the leather. Same with my foot on the accelerator.

"Now, now, Riley. You are my new Ghost Rider, and you will do as I say. Seek out Johnny Blaze and Blackheart. Do it and you will be free." That one word perked my attention. Free? "Now when you wreck, you will be hurt. Your car will remained damaged. And most of all, you can control whether or not you win a race."

"That was all you!" He chuckled.

"Kill your targets, and you will be free of me. Don't disappoint me." He raised his cane and pounded the ground with the tip. Tires squealed and the engine roared as it took off, with me trapped inside...


End file.
